Unsteady
by Ifgrasswereblue
Summary: A choked sob escapes Tony's bloody lips. A keen, so pitched high in grief and wretched sorrow that it leaves him breathless. Tony is choking on ashes, on the dust that makes up his son- He once told Pepper he had a dream, hadn't he?


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of its characters.**

_AN: This work is pretty old, but I haven't got to posting it here for some reason. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Happy reading!_

* * *

_Hold,_

_Hold on-_

_Hold on to me._

If Tony is to be anything but Iron Man, he is a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Or at least, it is what he told himself everyday as he looks into the mirror and sees a broken, fractured reflection of a man.

But Tony himself knows that it's just his issues talking, whispering. For he's grown throughout the past few years, and self-awareness is just another thing that seemed to grow on him (Peter too, the name snakes through with ease and _God- not the kid please_). The genius intellect never helps either.

A choked sob escapes Tony's bloody lips. A keen, so pitched high in grief and wretched sorrow that it leaves him breathless. Tony is choking on ashes, on the dust that makes up his son-

He once told Pepper he had a dream, hadn't he?

The man outside Iron Man owns an empire. He is a king in his own right as he also longs to be what is good, better. _'A philanthropist.' _Pepper playfully smiles. He has enough issues to provide for all the employees under his company for several lifetimes. A few more wouldn't hurt.

/

'_Cause I'm a little unsteady,_

One part of Tony's brain tells him that he built the suit. He isn't Iron man when he dawns the tech because Iron Man is _him_, on the contrary. You're very welcome, yeah thanks for the thanks.

Yet then again, Steve doesn't exactly get that. But in his defence, not many people do either. Sometimes, though, when Tony is drowning in his thoughts, that he could've been pushed to believe so too. That he is _nothing_ without the suit. Turning his head away from the fact that when Fate had thrown an invitation to Death's manor, he'd rejected it.

It was the moment Iron Man came to life instead.

Yet. Yet, _yet_, _**yet**_-

It doesn't mean he could've simply just bleached the tightness in his chest away like had been nothing, or scrub his illnesses away like he does with the suits. Being aware of why he feels a certain way and what he can do to not are two entirely different things. And if Peter were here, he'll probably compare it to some game like 'Fire boy & Water girl', whereupon the difficulty levels increase and two people are required to solve the puzzle- problem- whatever.

Two to solve an issue (or a hundred more mental ones) in Tony's book is a crowd, alright? Robots don't count.

But yeah, it isn't like Tony pays much attention to Peter's rambles or anything. He definitely also hadn't related it to himself, among all that nonsense. Nor does he pretend to not notice the sullen look in Peter Parker when he says 'two players to complete' with the kind of tone that tells Tony that the spider obviously finished whatever game he was on about alone.

The nerd and his unhealthy habit to make everything seem lighter than it is. The kid has nothing on Tony. But as pain shouldn't ever be a competition, Tony can only feel his heart ache for the kid who's no older than 16.

But speaking of Peter-

Ah, he croaks, this won't be easy to mask.

/

_Just __**a little**_

_Unsteady_

Tony lost Peter. And it wasn't even in the grocery store or Ikea like every other parent adult figure and their child charge. Peter Parker had ironically faded to dust like every other good thing in his life (save for Pepper, but he couldn't be so sure about that now too, can he?).

Everything had slipped through his fingers like a rushed case of wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. If Tony had been any less grounded by the ashes in his shaking hands that held barely any heat left, he was sure he'd have heard a fucking ghost whisper into his ear-

"Your fault. Your fault. What are you, even with the suit?"

"It's your fault, Anthony. Your fault and nobody else's. Couldn't protect your weapons, your Iron Man, your heart, or the world."

"You couldn't protect the one that begged you as you let him fade."

Actually, scratch that. He already does.

Tony lets himself kneel. He pretends that the ache by his side doesn't require medical attention. He pretends that the dryness in his throat isn't his; nor the hunger or the physical fatigue. Tony is good at pretending. But not good enough to convince himself.

He is also aware that _technically_, none of this is his fault. Not just his, that is.

But knowing and believing are two very different things. Emphasis on the very. Not unlike his feelings and _boy, am I totally not looking forward to discussing about those rotten potato sacks ever again_.

He's done the talk-my-problems-with-someone-get-help thing more than once, and it never gets easier each time. 10/10 would recommend, but it doesn't mean he has to like it.

Just where did it go wrong? Was it when Mr. Lord guy lost his temper under very understandable circumstance? Was it when he hadn't put a literal foot down on Spidey's little hero complex? Or was it when the lady pulled herself out of his grip.

She was the first one on _the day_ he failed to save the world.

Or had it started with Bruce? Tony doesn't feel like caring anymore.

As the heat soaks into his skin and hot dust blows into his eyes, he hears FRIDAY telling him something. Iron Man tunes it out, the hero will be out of commission as of now. Let him rest. Tony Stark is hurting and tiring and _dying or something like it_.

He mourns and for (more than) the first in his life, it isn't cloaked under joking quips and sarcastic jabs.

Somebody shakes his shoulder.

'No.' Tony thinks as he sinks into an endless abyss of icy darkness. 'At least let me take the kid home.'

/

_Mama,_

_Come here._

_Approach, appear._

_I know that you're tired of being alone._

Tony doesn't have the best childhood. In response to that, he had been sure he wouldn't make a good parent either. Nevertheless. as a kid, he had a roof above his head, right? Nice clothes and good food. But that wasn't enough. It never was _enough_ when it came to him. Why couldn't it ever be enough?

In a private space that belongs to him alone, Tony dreams of cars and assassins. He sees a mockery what he has had and what he could've had.

He dreams of being in his father's expensive shoes as the bullets pierce through the man's flesh. Tony puts himself in his mother's favourite red heels next, trying to imagine what she could've felt when she kissed his forehead and told him his father loved him.

The surface of the sleepy lake ripples.

Tony dreams of shields and stars after that. He dreams of spiders and gods; of science bros and robots. It doesn't last. Absently, his mind touches upon the blue ringed eyes of a certain God's brother. He knows they aren't naturally that way.

A dream of comrades and bird of prey tell him that too. He and Loki are strangely alike in some ways, nevertheless. For past the Stark industry size of family issues, they have always felt left out even with the luxuries they're surrounded with. Tony sleeps with the flickering memory of picking up a snake. It doesn't bite him.

The scene is continuously changing; it is never constant and mostly tragic.

He finds himself in a cramped room that isn't any larger than his bathroom back home. Inside, are walls painted a baby blue. Tony distinctly remembers a game of unfinished darts next to the door. There's a single bed as well, too small for someone that sleeps so close to his conscience.

Tony remembers feeling as though he'll give this particular boy the world if he asks. But the kid won't, so Tony later fixes a suit that means the world to the boy instead.

When it comes to most kinds of love, Tony knows he isn't the best person to have a heart to heart discussion with because he doesn't exactly understand it in all his exalted genius.

He's especially bad at the unconditional type; the one that leaves your arc reactor pulsing and the one that feels like blown glass- _beautiful_ in all its fragility. Money, however, Tony understands and knows and has like a never-ending well. So, he dreams of using that instead to express a fraction of what he feels for a son that is not officially his yet.

Tony buys a new bed and a new desk. He gets the boy the kind of tech he knows the kid likes and more games on top of even more tech. Tony gives and gives and gives. Peter smiles, a bright thing padded with dimples and Tony knows he's done something right. It feels a lot like love, so Tony thinks he's learning. He would like someone to tell him he is.

But JARVIS isn't there anymore.

_Daddy, _

_I'm alone._

_Cause this house don't feel like home._

_I know you're trying to fight when you feel like flying._

/

_If you love me, don't let go._

_Cause I'm a little unsteady_

_Just a little-_

He doesn't need to be awake to know that the words will haunt him forever. Hell, if it doesn't, Tony swears he will recreate the meaning of virtual reality just to remember Peter's last words once more. It would be his penance. His guilt and regret nailed on a cross so that he can sling it across his shoulder, climbing hills and mountains till it bruises.

Tony has so many wants for a dead man. Honestly, it could beat Thanos's own. I mean, the titan only wants half of the entire population dead, right? Amateur.

First on the list, Tony wants to tell the boy that _he's_ sorry. The apology that Peter had made can be shoved back into whatever crappy closet Peter kept his suit in before because it wasn't the kid's fault. Only Tony's. It's his fault for not being more firm, for dragging him into all this out-of-neighbourhood business in the first place.

Secondly, Tony wants to apologise to Pepper. He wants to hug her close and say sorry- _again-_ for not listening to her. And she will tell him to zip it because he doesn't truly mean it.

Pepper will cry for days so Tony would pat her hair and recite mathematical equations until she stops. They will have a fight, they will make up, they will pretend as though the farce didn't happen for a week before something blows up and all will be good again. Pepper is strong that way. She understands Tony in ways Tony never knew he needed.

Thirdly, Tony wants to talk to Steve. By that, he means sort out the issue between them like civil adults. There's only so much to say after a particularly large war. Death seems to make everything else insignificant somehow. But maybe right before that, Tony would want to tell Cap to get a new phone because their current means of communication is ridiculous.

Fourth- and isn't that the most ridiculous one?

He wants Peter back. Both safe and alive. It's okay if the spider _must_ come back a little hurt, it doesn't even matter if Peter loses an arm or more actually. Tony can still support him, help him regain what's he's lost because what else would he do with all his wealth then? If not to spend on his son.

Fifth,

Then Tony wants to redo the Spiderman's suit. He'll upgrade KAREN to be on par with FRIDAY if not better and Tony wants to install an additional parachute into the Spidey suit. Peter has an obsession for heights he'll never understand, but that's okay. The kid could be obsessed with crack and it's not something Tony wants to think about. He'll make the suit sturdier, more powerful. He'll think of a thousand more ways to shoot webs if he has to. Anything to keep his boy safe.

There is the sixth, seventh, eighth and an infinite more of wants Tony could say at the tip of his tongue. Instead, they feel heavy in his mouth. He needs to breathe, he realises.

/

_Hold on._

_Hold on,_

_Hold on to me._

Tony's eyes flicker back and forth into consciousness. There are white lights that blind him as his eyelids open. He hears the steady thrum of a jet; the smell of leather seats that lie heavily in his nostrils. They smell like blood. Wait, the blood is his. Tony doesn't feel too good.

"_Mr. Stark? I don't feel so good."_

A sharp pain. Someone grunts at the pilot's seat. Tony feels as though the hulk had given him a taste of being made into a lump of dough on the cooking board.

"_I don't know what's happening…I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go. Sir, please?"_

Why didn't you hold on, Peter? You're alright.

"_Please, I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go." _

These two hands can only take back so much of your ashes. What do I do? What do I do?

"_I'm sorry."_

Take it back, kid. It wasn't your fault.

**Only mine. I didn't hold on tight enough. **

_Cause I'm a little_

_Unsteady_.


End file.
